


Hesitations

by Sleepless_Malice



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gift Fic, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M, Snowed In, Tolkien Secret Santa 2019, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22085131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: Elrond and Thranduil are caught in a snowstorm in the woods surrounding Imladris.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Thranduil
Comments: 8
Kudos: 101
Collections: Tolkien Secret Santa 2019





	Hesitations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheMirkyKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMirkyKing/gifts).



> Dear TheMirkyKing,
> 
> I'm your very late Emergency Secret Santa. I hope you'll like this little story.

**Hesitations**

*****

Rubbing his hands, Thranduil watches Elrond light the fire in the cave. The Lord of Imladris is sort of an enigma. It’s so easy to forget that he’s a seasoned warrior beneath the courtly robes he always wears, someone who has endured much hardship throughout his life. The cave itself is sparsely furnished; two beds, some cutlery, a small table, and two chairs. Apart from that, there’s a huge pile of chopped wood, with food provisions next to it.

“There are hot springs nearby,” Elrond tells Thranduil without looking up. “Hot water is the best way to warm up a frozen body. For this reason, this cave was built.”

Thranduil’s nose is cold. “It’s not natural?”

Elrond shakes his head. “No. It was hewn into the stone as a shelter for our border patrols in emergency cases like this. Although snowstorms like today are rare, they occur from time to time. ”

Thranduil contemplates the option of the hot spring. He’s freezing cold, there’s little doubt of that. Hot water certainly has its appeal – but then, he doesn’t feel like stripping down in front of Elrond.

If Elrond is aware of it he deliberately ignores that bit. “And whilst you soak your body your clothes can dry next to the fire.”

“How long do you think it’ll last?” Thranduil asks.

Elrond wrinkles his nose. “I can’t tell for certain. Until morning without doubt, perhaps longer.”

Thranduil groans. He needs to return to the Woodland Realm as soon as possible as urgent matters await him. But it is not only that – he feels apologetic that Elrond is trapped with him in the snowstorm.

Whilst Thranduil is still in the process of making up his mind, Elrond begins to discard his wet clothes. Coat, robes, boots – hands now busy with his undertunic. It’s then when Elrond catches Thranduil staring.

“What –“

Elrond cuts him off, one eyebrow raised. “I hadn’t thought you were one for staring.”

Admonishment, even if accompanied by a smile, doesn’t sit well with Thranduil. “It’s lacking courtesy to simply strip down in front of another.”

“Is it?” Elrond merely laughs at that. “My apologies if such little things are offensive to the King of the Woodland Realm. I had assumed that exceptional circumstances like a snowstorm would lower his expectations.”

Without saying another word, Elrond leaves the cave.

For a while, Thranduil watches the fire. Despite sitting very close to it his body does not warm up. He contemplates the option of the hot springs for a second time since he’s already shivering. He’s angry. At Elrond, but mostly at himself.

“Damn it,” Thranduil curses, throwing his tunic to the floor. His behavior was hardly befitting of a king, but for once he does not care. There’s no-one around to scold him. “Damn that elf.”

When he steps outside the snow is already knee-deep, crunching under his bare feet.

The hot springs are hard to miss from the trail Elrond has left behind and Thranduil strides forward, cursing each and every snowflake that settles upon his skin.

Elrond greets him but has the courtesy not to look up. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

Thranduil keeps his silence as he steps into the pool. Not that he thinks that Elrond expects him to say anything at all. The water bubbles and wells from beneath the surface, feeding the pools continuously with steaming hot water.

For a while, Thranduil watches the snowflakes dancing through the air and the bubbles, annoyed that in fact, Elrond had been right. The cold slowly dissipates from his bones.

Thranduil is watching Elrond again, he suddenly realizes, now from the corner of his eyes. Elrond is cutting his arms through the surface as if he’s treading water, hard enough for waves to sweep in Thranduil’s direction. Every once in awhile his gaze falls on one of Elrond’s scars and he secretly wonders about the history of it.

Thranduil nearly jumps as Elrond clears his throat. Again he’s been caught staring.

“I – “ he wants to say something in his defense but the words die on Thranduil’s tongue as Elrond interrupts him.

“Dare to take a closer look?”

There’s a challenge in Elrond’s eyes and Thranduil has never been known to ignore one.

_ Why not indulge in such frivolous recklessness for a night? _

_ Once morning comes, he’ll be gone. _

The words are out of his mouth before he knows it. “Would you want me to?”

Without awaiting Elrond’s reply, Thranduil moves forward towards where Elrond sits. He doesn’t stop when their feet touch below the surface; doesn’t stop when his knees hit the bench of stone on which Elrond sits. He holds Elrond’s gaze as he thoroughly invades his personal space, settling right in his lap. The position doesn’t leave much to the imagination, a blessing that they’re alone.

Elrond doesn’t flinch.

Thranduil’s hand dips below the surface, tracing one of Elrond’s scars before he begins to palm Elrond’s erection. “I always thought sexual activities are forbidden in the hot springs?”

Elrond’s arms sneak around Thranduil’s waist, pulling him close with nothing but the water and Thranduil’s hand between their bodies. “If I am not mistaken I am the lord of these lands,” he says, lips trailing along Thranduil’s throat.

“And free to bend the laws – “ Thranduil dips his head back to give Elrond more space for his explorations.

“If necessary, yes.”

Thranduil notices the hitch in Elrond’s breath with delight as he rolls his hips with great intention. Snowflakes swirl around them, accompanied by an icy wind that pricks his skin. Thranduil can’t care less: Elrond is hot against him, the steam from the springs rising around them and then, Elrond’s lips are pressed against his own exploring territory that’s still unknown. Damp hair clings to Elrond’s face and shoulders, droplets of molten snowflakes sliding down his face as he reaches between their bodies. Thranduil catches his breath, yet begins to rock slowly forward, pretending he’s riding. Perhaps, one day he might.

*

The snowfall lasts for almost a week. Riding out does not make sense at all like this, with avalanches threatening to bury him alive, or so Elrond has told him. Thranduil has stopped complaining hours ago. Elrond smiles as Thranduil shifts in his arms, and in response, he presses his lips against Elrond’s mouth.

Some days, they lose themselves in conversations they’ve started the night before; sometimes, they don’t need words at all, content to let lips and hands speak for themselves. Then, they soak in the hot springs, continuing with what they’ve done before. Kiss, eat, talk, fuck – for days it’s barely more than that.

**Centuries later**

*

It’s been snowing for days – and the snow still does not stop falling. Thranduil doubts it’ll ever stop. The Hidden Valley is covered in snow, its roofs and houses barely visible through the swirling snowflakes, the wind deadly cold.

“Can’t you make it stop?” he groans, standing at the window.

Elrond comes to stand behind him. “Perhaps I can?” he whispers against Thranduil’s neck. “Or perhaps it’s my wish to let Imladris drown in snow.”

Thranduil raises an eyebrow. “Please have the courtesy to tell me why you would indulge in such madness.”

“Roads sealed, pathways blocked. No riders. No messengers, not even ravens flying in,” Elrond murmurs, the suggestiveness in his voice hard to miss. “Do I really have to explain to you the appeal of that? I thought you had come to love the snow.”

Thranduil snorts. “You aren’t exactly known for your selfishness.”

“Am I not?” Elrond feigns surprise.

“Not quite, except…”

Elrond’s arms sneak around Thranduil’s waist. “Except when I tell you to go down on me?”

“Among other things, yes.” Thranduil covers Elrond’s hands with his own. “Would you want me to?”

Thranduil feels Elrond’s lips curve into a smile against his skin. “After so many years, do you still need an answer to that?”

“Yes, and no,” Thranduil says, then turns around and sinks to his knees.

* 


End file.
